The Victim
by Signature.Hot.Chocolate
Summary: In return for giving her what she needed, she gave him what he wanted. Victoria hunts. One-shot.


The Victim

* * *

"You lookin' for a good time sugar?" I asked, pouring on the fake southern accent and flicking my recently washed hair behind my shoulder.

The man, probably in his mid forty's, judging by the grey edge to his neat brown hair and the creases at the corners of his eyes, leant his face out of the drivers seat window of his grey Lexus and gave me a lecherous smile. "I sure am, hop in."

Reminding myself to go slow, I made my way around to the passenger side, giving the empty street one last sweeping glance, before hopping in. The tan leather upholstery whispered against my naked thighs, the skirt I had stolen riding so high up on my legs I may as well have been wearing nothing at all.

I bit my lip in an effort to look coy as I noticed my companion's gaze rake down my nearly exposed body. His heart rate picked up as his pale blue eyes lingered on my leather encased breasts and in turn his sweet flowing life force pumped harder, making my mouth fill with venom.

I shivered, swallowing hard and his eyes flicked to mine momentarily, a purely masculine smile taking over his features. Throwing the car into gear he spun out of the dark alley, fishtailing as he joined the almost non-existent traffic on the main road. It was mid-week, there was no such thing as nightlife in this city mid-week.

"What's with the contacts?" he asked casually as he clumsily manoeuvred the city streets, steadily making his way south, obviously he had a destination in mind.

I answered without looking at him, concentrating on not ripping his neck to shreds as he drove, bidding my time until we were in a more secluded area. "I was at a friends Halloween party, they were apart of my costume," I lied smoothly. Halloween wasn't for a few more days, but he seemed to believe me.

"What did you go as?" his tone was one of mild curiosity, his wandering eyes giving way to his true thoughts.

"A vampire."

"Oh." Was all he said, his eyes returning to the road as we travelled further and further from the city limits, the trees become more frequent and the houses all but giving way to a forest so thick it seemed to swallow the night around us. The headlights of the Lexus created an almost tunnel effect and my companion squinted in the dark, staying between the lines and dropping his speed dramatically.

"Turn here," I said after a while; remembering a spot James and I had passed the other day, it was accessible by car, but very much away from prying eyes. The man obeyed without question, indicating despite the fact we were the only car for miles and turning onto the dirt and gravel track that was probably used by conservation workers.

The grey car crawled down the track, each stone or pothole causing the suspension to lurch; I could tell the man beside me wasn't happy about abusing the piece of machinery; his face was screwed up in concentration.

"This will do," I murmured after a minute or so. The man gave an audible sigh of relief, switching off the car and cutting the lights. We were engulfed in darkness; it was almost like a heavy blanket had been thrown over the car so that even I had trouble adjusting to the sudden change. When I could see again, I turned in a creak of leather to stare at my victim, who was blinking blindly in my direction.

"You've been here before?" he asked, his voice hushed in the darkness, as humans tend to do.

"Just once, when you started heading in this direction I remembered it was here," I said, leaning forward, letting my breast brush up against his arm. I swung my leg over the gear box and was straddling his lap before he could take his next breath. The steering wheel dug lightly into my back, so I reached down and flicked the button to make the seat go back as far as possible.

"Oh okay," he breathed gulping as felt the soft leather and cold skin, "I don't – you know – make a habit of this sort of thing…" he trailed off as I bought my hand up to cup his cheek. His hands automatically went to my waist.

"You got a wife at home?" I asked gently, running my hand up into his hair, bringing my other hand forward to play with the top button of his crisp white shirt.

"We've been married for nearly fifteen years," he rasped, as my fingers brushed against the smattering of hair on his chest, deftly undoing the buttons.

"Kids?" I asked, knowing he wasn't paying much attention to my words, more focused on my actions. He didn't know it, but his answer was vitally important to me. In my own way, I felt guilty about my victims, especially the ones James and I took together.

When I had been 'born' I was senseless, crazed and constantly hungry. James has shown me how to hunt, how to play, how to live; but now, years on, I found myself grasping back onto human parts of my nature long forgotten. Now that I no longer needed James there beside me, I was able to hunt on my own. At first it had been a wonderful, freeing experience, but then things had changed. I could now see my victims as human, now thought beyond my next meal and onto what their last had been.

His answer bought me back to the present. "None, doctors say she's barren, she hasn't handled it very well," he gasped this time as I parted the shirt, running both hands down his chest to meet at his wide belt buckle.

His answer assuaged my fears, gave me a stronger resolve. All he had was an ungrateful wife to go home to, no children and from the looks of him when he had pulled up in the street beside me, no real focus in life. In a way, his answer let me rid myself of any form of guilt; in return for him giving me what I wanted, I would give him what he wanted.

I undid the belt buckle with quick precise movements, my icy fingers brushing against his stomach, surprisingly toned for a man his age. "You're so beautiful," I heard him whisper, his fingers spearing through my long curls moments before I freed him from his pants. I smirked, his words were intended to be pleasing, but they merely irritated me as I thought of how I was designed to be beautiful for this very purpose.

Sliding down between his parted legs, I gripped him lightly in my hand, watching as shivers coursed his whole body as my temperature registered with him, "Poor circulation," I shrugged, running my fingers from tip to base and back again.

He didn't answer me; he just dropped his head back against the padded rest and flexed his fingers against my scalp. I leant forward, my hair spilling over his legs, caressing his stomach as his pulse picked up once more. He was hard in my hand, his hips bucking lightly, seeking attention. I began to move my hand, pumping him slowly, watching his face carefully to make sure his eyes were truly closed.

Leaning forward, I gently placed my lips just below his navel, following the sleek line of hair before changing course last minute and caressing his hip. His fingers gripped tighter in pleasure as I bought my other hand up to stimulate him. Closing my eyes, I let the venom fill my mouth once more, my lips parting as I bit where I kissed not moments before.

His seed filled my hand as his body reacted – I knew the first bite was erotic; I knew that the body mistook it for intense pleasure and not pain. It was a flash, momentary and so brief it was surely forgotten, but I remembered it myself and knew it was there. The man's gasps of release turned to screams of pain as I found a pulsing vein and began to drink my fill.

It was over before it had really started, within minutes I was pushing his body out onto the road, replacing the tacky leather shirt I had stolen with his white business shirt that had somehow escaped the bloody carnage.

Throwing the car into gear I made my way back into the city, back to my lover. While the man was now dead, I remained a victim to my own desires, and while my thirst was now sated; only one man could satisfy my other ache.

* * *

_Thanks for Reading!_


End file.
